Immune to Death
by Link-luvr
Summary: House thinks about death, how it effects the world...and him. One-shot


A.N: Hello all. I would like to take this opportunity to explain that this is my first 'House MD' fic. Hope it's ok.

Incidentally, I was in quite a dark mood when I wrote this. Hence the subject of death

I hope you...well...enjoy isn't the right word. Maybe 'appreciate' is better.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with 'House MD' and am in no way affiliated with it. Nor am I making any money from writing this.

* * *

Death, House mused, was a strange occurrence. 

Physically, no, but emotionally, spiritually…if there was such a thing, certainly.

It was amazing how one heart ceasing to beat, one breath of air not being taken, could have such an impact on the world, and yet so little.

People died everyday. Hundreds of them.

Hearts failed. Lungs collapsed. Kidneys and livers and brains shut down. Muscles spasmed. Eyes rolled. Blood ceased to flow. Or flowed too much. Or clotted in the wrong place.

But that's all it was. A problem within the body. Disease, illness, infection, age, injury. All physical problems. Just physical.

Masses died everyday, and for each one that dies, for every little metaphorical light in the world that is snuffed out, someone mourns.

Someone will grieve. They'll weep and wail. They'll curse and wonder why.

'His brain shut down.' He'll explain.

'Her heart was weak.'

'Your son's lungs collapsed.'

'Your wife's blood clotted in the Aorta.'

'Your brother's blood wouldn't clot.'

'Your mother's immune system couldn't fight off the virus.'

Everyday he would explain. Describe why and how problems occurred, why the heart couldn't beat, or the brain fried, or the liver shut down.

One person will die, and the millions of others in the world would never know. Probably never care.

Put on a show, sure. Even feel some remorse that a heart has stopped beating, and that someone, or rather someones, is sobbing their sorry heart out. Is choking on floods of tears that they can't hold back. Is retching violently because of the magnitude of their loss. Is pounding on a floor, looking to the sky as if God will reach down, and zap their fallen loved one back to life.

But as long as it doesn't happen to them, they don't care. Not really.

Somebody's world will fall apart. And somebody, somewhere else, wouldn't give a damn. Would say 'it happens', shrug and continue with their lives.

He saw it everyday. A patient's wife would collapse in front of him, and beg him to save her husbands life. To do anything,_ anything,_ to stop him from leaving her. To save him from that fate.

Everyday, House would mutter, the hollow, empty words 'I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do.'

He was that person that, somewhere, didn't give a damn.

He witnessed death everyday. Had grown immune to it, resistant to that pleading look in the eyes of a patient's loved one. Another person dies? Why should he care?

It'd happen to everyone eventually. That final gasp, that look of peace.

He had grown immune to death.

He had grown immune to death?

_He had grown immune to death?!_

How?

How had that happened? When?

When had he stopped caring that someone would die? Why was he the person who didn't care?

It made him as bad as a murderer. Worse than a murderer.

A murderer _cared _that they killed someone. They did it on purpose, planned it out.

It may be the wrong kind of caring, but it was caring, at least.

"Why wouldn't I care?"

'Because no-one will care when you're gone'.

No one would mourn for the grumpy old cripple. The sarcastic, witty, intelligent doctor whose patients were worth as much to him as a book of sudoku puzzles.

No one will mourn or grieve for a man who doesn't care about others. There would be no-one standing by the side of his grave, pounding the earth and looking to God for answers. There would be no-one to weep and wail at his funeral. No-one to hold his cold, dead hand.

'If a good person dies someone should be upset'

Not a good person.

Not a person..

Just a life.

Just physical.

That's all he was….just physical.

* * *

Hope that wasn't too depressing for y'all. 

This piece is a dedication to Pheobe, my rabbit who has passed away today, at the tender age of 5 years. May she rest in eternal peace in the big hutch in the sky.

And yes, I did steal a line from BtVS, but I don't care.

Reviews, are, as always, greatly appreciated. Pheobe thanks anyone who reviews by...umm, looking cute and twitching her nose...from heaven.


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